Wishful Thinking
by Abarero
Summary: Belarus wishes for what she wants most on her birthday- Russia. Little does he know, but he's playing right into her hands. Belarus/Russia.


**Wishful Thinking**

The thought had crossed her mind before, love potions and charms that might sway Russia's affection in her favor. But as impassioned as her feelings were, deep down, Belarus wanted his feelings in return to be genuine, not fabricated.

"Belarus, the candles," his sweet voice pointed out, bringing her back to the current moment. It was her birthday. It was midday. And she was currently about to make a wish on her birthday cake.

She sent him a loving glance and took a deep breath. It wasn't _really_ manipulating his feelings if it was a birthday wish, right?

With a precise blow, she extinguished all the candles and made her wish.

_Even if it's only for a day, please let my dearest Russia love me._

* * *

Russia was getting increasingly worried about Belarus. Ever since she'd blown out the candles on her birthday cake, she was quiet, withdrawn and even somewhat _shy_ around him.

With a frown, he sought her out. As much as her affections for him were disturbingly forward, Russia did care about Belarus.

He found her seated on the couch, nervously fidgeting with her hands. "Belarus," he began, sitting beside her, "Are you feeling ill?"

Russia pressed a hand to her forehead and her face flushed scarlet.

"Ru-Russia," she stammered out.

Furrowing his eyebrows in concern, he shifted his hand to her burning cheeks. "Is there anything I can get you?"

Belarus's eyes widened in shock and tears started to well in her eyes. With a sweep of his thumb, Russia brushed the tears away. If Belarus was acting this quiet and meek and _strange_, she had to be sick. _And it is her birthday too. What a terrible time to fall ill. Normally, I'd have someone else go get her a drink but…_

Russia looked forlornly to his empty household, then back to Belarus. He patted her cheek as he stood. "Kvass to drink, yes? That will cheer you up."

She nodded mutely, her face still quite red and her heart hammering in her chest. Thinking kvass for her and vodka for himself was in order, Russia excused himself from the room to get them.

* * *

Belarus couldn't believe it. Her wish, for her precious Russia to fall for her, was clearly working. She'd been a bit apprehensive at first, afraid that if she initiated anything herself it might nullify the wish. And so she'd waited…and he'd come. He'd come to her and lovingly stroked her cheek.

Her hand drifted up and pressed against the tingling skin where his hand was moments before. With a wistful sigh, she glanced in the direction he'd left in.

_And he's getting me a drink. My dearest Russia, he's getting a drink- just for me!_

She swooned back onto the couch, unable to contain her excitement any longer.

* * *

Russia returned to find her fainted on the couch, with her face still worryingly flushed. Sitting their drinks aside, he walked over and reached his arms around her reclining form.

"Russia?" She squeaked, eyes flying open.

Lifting her up into his arms with ease, he cradled Belarus against his chest. The poor woman was clearly quite sick.

"A bed will be more suitable for you right now, yes?" She gaped, nodding in reply. Russia smiled slightly, hoping it would ease her pain. _She must be delirious. Her eyes are even slightly glazed over._

He situated her in the bed, fluffing the pillows under her head and tucking her under the covers. Russia glanced back to the doorway, sorely wishing he still had Latvia around to fetch the drinks for them. He always found such enjoyment in watching the young nation squirm around himself and Belarus. With a sigh, he turned to leave himself; but he was stopped by a firm grip on his sleeve.

"D-Don't leave me, please," she said breathlessly.

"I am just going to fetch you your drink, okay?"

Her pained expression eased at that, and Russia left the room wondering what illness it was that turned such a usually forward woman into a pleading, stammering mess. He had to admit, he liked her much more this way.

Russia brought the drinks in and helped her sip down the kvass as he sat beside her on the bed, even patting her a bit on her back when she choked a little. After a few moments, she spoke up, her voice nary above a whisper.

"Will you stay with me tonight?"

Her eyes were so wide and beseeching, and Russia was almost certain her lip was even trembling in anticipation.

"It is your birthday wish then, yes?"

She smiled, hugging him gently. "Yes."

He tensed a bit at her grip, but relaxed when he realized it was much looser than her usual "hugs." It was her birthday and she was definitely not acting like herself. He could handle one night for her sake. Pressing a kiss to her forehead, he lay down beside her and clasped her hand.

"Then I shall stay. Happy Birthday, Belarus."

She nuzzled her head under his chin and wrapped her arms around him. "Thank you, Russia dear."

* * *

The next morning, things were mostly back to normal; Belarus was stalking Russia around the house and ambushing him whenever she got the chance, and Russia was back to trying his best to avoid her.

But whenever she thought back on her birthday, and how her wish had clearly come true if only for that day, Belarus sighed wistfully to herself.

Now she was _certain_ that somewhere deep down, Russia must really love her. And it was really only a matter of time before she got it out of him.

THE END.


End file.
